Three Drabbles
by FerryBerry
Summary: Future. Exactly what it says on the tin.
1. Someday

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All belongs to _Glee_ writers and creators.

**A/N:** Just some drabbles to get me back into the swing of things. Can be seen as a series.

**Someday**

I have no idea how this happened. Well, I mean, I sort of do. But…

Rachel and I have been awkward friends since Nationals and me making sure Santana didn't gut her with one of her hidden razor blades. I gave up on Finn, and she strengthened her efforts to get me to like her. Not that I ever really hated her, it was just that she occasionally irritated me, mostly when she was with Finn. So once in a while, she would come complain to me about Finn or Mr. Schuester or whatever, and I never turned her away, I just listened, and it became more frequent.

Sometimes I would even unload on her, and she listened right back.

It was a little weird when we tried to hang out, but usually a movie and popcorn would make things easier on us. We'd just sit back on the couch, the bowl resting on my lap, and eventually she would worm her way over to lean against me, for better access to the popcorn. Sometimes I'd sling an arm around her shoulders, and it was pretty comfortable.

I'd even grown to like her, consider her a friend. And yeah, there was a part of me that found her really attractive, but I pushed that aside in favor of what she was already giving me—what I was already enjoying well enough without changing things.

But tonight, Rachel came to me beyond upset, ranting about Finn's idiotic antics as usual (this time he broke up with her, all because he didn't think he could handle the distance with her being in New York, which…he knew she was going there all along, so…), and just when I got her calmed down, she started talking about me. Well, us.

How she wished she had listened to me back in that auditorium last year—_really_ listened. How she wished she had been there for me, gotten to know me, instead of obsessing over a boy who isn't even there when she most needs him. And how rewarding our friendship has been to her, how much I've come to mean to her.

I'm not really sure who made the first move after that. I only know that somehow we ended up on my couch, her above me with her hands on either side of my head, bracing herself on the arm of it, while I explore her torso beneath her shirt, skin-to-skin. Making out like there's no tomorrow.

And it is honestly the best kiss I've ever had. Forget fireworks; my whole _body_ is humming with barely tamed excitement. Her tongue is magical.

Only suddenly that tongue is gone, followed by cherry lips, and she's climbing off of me quickly, pulling down her shirt and gasping for breath as she says, "Wait, wait. No. This…this isn't fair."

I half-sit up, brow furrowed, as I watch her pace back and forth across my living room, trying to grasp in my lust-filled haze why she isn't still on top of me.

"I'm so, _so_ sorry, Quinn. This was completely unfair to you. I shouldn't have done this," she pants, running her hand through her long hair, smoothing it back down.

I really don't know what to say, but she's obviously expecting something, so I just say the first thing that comes to mind: "Okay."

She gapes at me. "'Okay'? That-that's it?"

"I…yes?"

"Aren't you furious with me?" she shrieks, and I wince at the volume. "I just came over to your house to complain about your ex-boyfriend and, well, mine now, and then throw myself at you and then change my mind and all you can say is 'okay'?"

Obviously she's not getting back on top of me anytime soon, so I ease into a standing position and smooth down the wrinkles in my clothes, looking down at her intently so she won't think of looking away. "Pretty much." She looks incredulous. "Look, we both know what's going on here. You're upset with Finn, you want comfort. I'm not complaining."

"Well, maybe you should be! I'd basically be using you and I…I wouldn't even be able to look at you afterward," she mumbles, folding her arms protectively.

It stings a little, and I can't help but query softly, "Why not?"

"Because I…" She falters, biting her lip. "I would want it to mean something." My heart skips a beat as she meets my eyes and sucks in a breath. "Quinn, I want to have sex with you." If she's trying to talk me out of this, it's not really working. "But not under these circumstances. I still have feelings for Finn, and I won't do that to you. I won't ruin what we have over Finn Hudson, Quinn. You mean too much to me."

Damn it. The warmth in my chest I get just looking at her doubles and I can't help but reach to stroke her hair back from her face, smiling when she leans into my touch.

"Okay."

She lets out a small chuckle and says quietly, "You're too good to me." She bites her lip again, looking up at me doe-eyed. "Maybe…someday…?"

I nod, and she grins the way that makes her eyes sparkle and my heart beat faster. "Yeah, someday."


	2. If We Ever Meet Again

**If We Ever Meet Again**

"Rachel."

It should probably sound like a question after all these years, but it isn't. I'd know that nose, that face, that smile—those eyes—anywhere. The smile fades when she takes me in, pink hospital robe tucked around me, hair up in a lopsided bun, dried sweat sticking to my forehead. Standing in front of the viewing area—for babies.

It isn't what she thinks it is, and I so desperately want to say that, to explain that that's not why I'm here, that I haven't moved on from her. Probably never will. But her eyes are guarded and her smile goes up again, but not the real one, and I choke on the words that might bring it back.

"Quinn. It's been a long time," she says, and wanders closer, every move cautious. Her eyes flicker over to the rows of infants beyond the glass, and I think she must be guessing which one's mine. Again, I want to say none of them are, that I wandered here on my own because I couldn't sleep after my earlier ordeal, that I couldn't stop thinking of Beth. The words die in my throat, and all I can do is nod, taking her in. "How have you been?"

She's in a red dress, one that looks like it should be being shown off on a red carpet somewhere while she smiles and poses and simply looks radiant. Not in some hospital hallway talking to an old high school…something. Her hair is down in light curls, one of the many ways I've always liked it. She looks beautiful, so much so that I almost can't speak.

"I've been better. How about yourself?"

She falters, gesturing behind her. "All right. My dad just gave us a bit of a scare. We thought he was having a heart attack in the middle of the limo, but it turns out it was just a bad case of heartburn from the Chinese we had earlier." She chuckles lightly and I can't help but smile at the sound, though it doesn't last. Soon enough she's sobering and looking at me like I imagine I look at the magazines I see with her face on them—often with a male 'friend.' Like there's an ache in her heart that just won't go away, no matter how hard she tries to forget it. "I've really missed you, Quinn."

I hate myself, because I can't do anything but nod—again. And then I hate the man she's with, not just because she's with him, but just as I'm starting to tell her I've missed her, too, that I want to see her again, to never stop seeing her, he calls from down the hall, "Rach! You coming?"

"Just a second!" she calls, but the brief pause before the words gives me hope. And then she looks at me, heartbroken all over again, and my own clenches in response as she says, "It was great seeing you. Um, congratulations."

And then she's hurrying away, high heels clacking the floor with every step, never to know that a congratulations wasn't really in order. Not when I'm here because the doctor wanted to keep me for observation after the trauma of the fire that erupted in my building. Not when I let the woman I've always loved walk away from me again, because I just can't seem to get over this paralyzing fear to do something, to say something, for me.

I see her about to disappear around the corner, and she glances back, and maybe this time it's not for me. Maybe it's for both of us.

I tighten my grip on the IV drip at my side and suck in a breath.


	3. Preggers

**Preggers**

I have had the longest, shittiest day in the all history. All I want is to come home, eat dinner, and lay in bed with my beautiful wife until we fall asleep. And yet, it just keeps getting worse. The strap of my purse gets caught in the revolving door, the elevator is down (again) so I have to walk up ten flights of stairs because neither of us like the ground floor and I'm starting to think we're crazy for that, and then I, of course, drop my keys as soon as I actually get them out of my purse.

Great freaking day.

When I finally get it unlocked, I drop my keys next to hers on the stand we were originally going to use for mail and kick off my shoes, shouting, "Rachel! I've had the worst day of my entire life, so it would be great if we could skip our usual showdown on Scrabble tonight and just relax. I promise to kick your ass tomorrow." I drop my briefcase next to the couch and yank off my coat, catching her enter from the kitchen in the corner of my eye. "You would not believe how horrid it was in there today. I mean, first I get in and my assistant tells me my boss canceled my morning meetings, so of course I'm thinking, 'Shit, I'm getting laid off' and then I find out he really wants me to spend the whole morning working on training a bunch of interns, which you know I hate because they always ask the dumbest questions and I seriously wonder if these kids were in the right building, because dear God."

"Quinn," she says softly, but I'm not in the mood to be calmed down.

"They were like a bunch of lost sheep. In fact, they kind of reminded me of a room of Finn Hudsons. Like you _want_ to be nice and patient, but they're so annoying you just can't do it." I huff, leaning against the arm of the couch. "So then, after I'm done with them, I'm on lunch break, right? Wrong. Because I didn't do my morning meetings, I had to literally call every one of them and explain the situation, because Janet can't handle being yelled at—the girl reads romance novels at her desk, for crying out loud."

"Quinn, darling."

"And of course my boss couldn't have just had her explain the situation _when_ she called to cancel. So I spend like half my afternoon getting reamed out and then I still have filing and all this other shit to do, half of which has to wait until tomorrow because I wasted so much time with those interns, and then I practically ran my heels off at the end of the day trying to hunt down the lady from HR who's been giving me the runaround about time off so you don't have to be going to these doctor's appointments alone; so I could really use a foot massage later, if you don't mind, baby." I kiss her forehead. "But when I catch up with her, it's time for both of us to clock out. But don't worry, I'm not going to let her keep doing this to me, okay?"

"Quinn."

"Yes, baby?" I smile, feeling the tension of the day work its way out of my body now that I'm home, with my gorgeous wife, and all of that nasty stuff is out in the open and off my chest. I soak in the pleasant atmosphere of our apartment, and only then do I smell— "Bacon? You made bacon?"

A smile lifts the corners of her lips briefly before she says, "Yes, but—"

I grin and grasp her hand, tugging her into the kitchen with me, where I see she's set the table quite nicely: two high candles, a lovely centerpiece with gardenias, a bottle of champagne, each of our favorite dishes on each side of the table, and even a tablecloth, which we usually don't bother with considering that that table has been on the receiving end of some heavy loads before. Suddenly I'm a little nervous. Did I forget an anniversary, or something?

I couldn't possibly. I always remember. Unless today drove me so crazy that—

"Quinn. I have something to tell you."

Oh, God. What happened? I face her, instantly worried, and she struggles for a moment, biting her lip.

"Rach?"

"I went to the doctor today and, um…"

There are suddenly butterflies in my stomach, because God, this has to be a good thing, right? All the other times, we never made fancy dinners like this, we only held each other, reaffirmed our love for each other, promised to try again. Before I knew it, I was squeezing both her hands tightly in mine.

"Yeah?"

A small smile lifts her lips, and she gives me a little nod. "I'm pregnant."

For a moment, all I can do is stare while my heart beats in my ears and I stare at the woman I love. And then it sets in, and I'm squealing and scooping her up in my arms until her feet are no longer on the floor, and she laughs and hugs me as tight as she can, and I'd be absolutely, perfectly happy in this moment if I could just taste her lips, so I lean back to do just that, but can't help but pause to grin at her sparkling eyes. She grins back.

"For-for good this time?" I ask, frightened and excited for the answer, and she bobs her head so cutely; it's a habit she never lost from high school, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

"She said I'm about two months in, and I'm in excellent health. Barring any unforeseen complications, this one's a keeper," she says tearfully, and I squeeze her tighter, kissing her as many times as I can without actually taking my lips away.

"God, I love you, Rachel," I murmur against her lips, claiming them again shortly.

She pulls back from me, cupping my cheeks and gently stroking my skin, running her fingers through my hair. "I love you, too." She kisses me sweetly, then says, "Now put me down so we can have a proper celebratory meal together. Since I can no longer partake in the delights of alcohol, I intend on getting you very drunk, Mrs. Fabray." She grins cheekily.

A mischievous smirk rises on my face before I can stop it, and I heave her higher in my arms, until her legs are around my waist. "I have a better idea," I purr, and it takes me only three minutes to get her to stop lecturing me about how long it took her and how we're wasting good food. Which is, by the way, a record.


End file.
